It's not about Love
by MajorFirst
Summary: It's been seven years since Cristina waved Owen goodbye behind the gallery's window. They never saw each other again, until... Rated T for now. It may evolved to M later.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Hi there, here is a new story I came up with since my other one will be completed shortly. I hope you'll like it.**

 **Of course, I still don't own anything about Grey's Anatomy.**

 **Please let me know what you think, it'll be very much appreciated and sorry about mistakes I may have done, english is not my first language, I'm working on finding myself a beta (it's in progress: jo :) ). Also, I'm trying pretty hard to stay true to the characters but if you feel I'm drifting from that, please let me know so I can straighten up.**

 **Thank you for giving my story a try.**

He had been waiting for that day. For a long time. When the news finally broke a few weeks ago, he knew what he had to do and proceeded with it.

Owen Hunt survived many things in his life. His father's death first, a man he adored and respected, a good man and a good father, then years in war zones, as a trauma surgeon, seeing things that will haunt him for the rest of his days, a time during which he saw his friends die, one after the other. He had to break the engagement he made to the woman he first thought as his future and althought it was his call, it had been everything but easy. A few years ago, he also had to survive, in every sens of the word, the failing of his marriage, with another woman, the one who helped him throught his PTSD, the one he had loved beyond any rational thought. He knew right from the start that what he felt for her was the kind of love you experience once in a lifetime only, if you are lucky. Finally, he had to survive terminating the life of a baby he wanted to much.

But Owen Hunt was a fighter. Always has been. His mother had told him so, many times, even before he decided to join the Army. He grieved each event the best he knew how, sometimes not the good way, but is there even a good way to grieve? Some took more time than others, some destroyed him more than others but the important thing was, he always found himself back on his feet after a while.

During the seven years since his ex-wife took a plane for the other side of the world, he has been seeing women, sometimes for quite a long time even, enjoying the feeling of flirting again, of beeing cared for, and of course enjoying sex. But he was done with marriage and swore to himself that Cristina Yang would stay the only woman he would get to be married to. Marriage was overrated anyway. He learned that the hard way.

He stood in the small bathroom, and looked at his reflection in the mirror. His black suit fitted him perfectly, matching the black tie resting on a white shirt. Very classic. He had shaved, had had a haircut a week ago and he was satisfied with the way it all looked like. Happy with the image of himself he saw in front of him, he stepped out of the bathroom, switched the lights off and headed toward his final destination.

To be totally honnest, he had to admit he was a little nervous. And impatient. Mostly impatient.

The large room he was allowed to enter after a short drive was heavily decorated, according to the big event it was hosting. He shook a few hands, chatted briefly with some collegues, people he happened to meet during his years of practice as Chief of Surgery. But he wasn't here for them.

After a while, he finally took a seat, near the far end of the room, at the opposite side of the stage. Fifteen minutes later, a world-known surgeon started a very long -and sometimes boring- speech. Owen waited and listened, twisting his fingers every now and then. Sometimes a sentence would take him for a little ride in his memories and he would smile to himself, happy and honored somehow, some other words would make him winced, the memories they called not so pleasant.

What seemed like hours later, everyone including him had held their breaths. And it came:

\- "So it is with a great honor and pleasure, that I'm here tonight to grant the most important award of one's carreer to the best Cardio-thoracic surgeon of the decade. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Dr. Cristina YANG!"

A thunder of clappings rose from the room as a woman appeared from behind a curtain and walked on stage, smiling, wearing a stunning red dress, high heels, long curly asian hair especially done for the occasion. She accepted the award, and started her own speech, thanking people Owen had no idea about. Not one mention of him. But he didn't care. Owen was just smiling, taking in as many things as he could as he watched her, remembering and re-engraving his brain with each of her features. He hadn't seen her or talk to her in the last seven years (and four months) but as far of the stage as he stood, she was still able to take his breath away and years seemed to have forgotten her, except maybe for her eyes. Weirdly to him, it was the only thing he found to be older, but not any less beautiful.

Some time later, many small groups of people had formed, within which surgical conversations, cheerings, toasting and drinking. He spotted her in the room, looking slighly annoyed with the social needs of such an event. He smiled again. Cristina had never been at ease with social calls. She hated it. A waiter passed by him and Owen stopped him. He for one, believed that the best part of such events was actually the coktail part.

He finished the Scotch he ordered and decided to leave, not without throwing one last glance at his ex-wife, still totally oblivious to his presence, a new smile on his lips. He was happy. For her.

Across the room, Cristina was desperatly trying to smile at whoever was talking to her right now, someone who was obviously important but whom she didn't had the slightest idea of who he was, wishing she could just fly away to the comfort of her appartment, kick her shoes off and grab some cereals or pop corn, before crashing into her bed watching the last surgery she had recorded. Don't get anything wrong, she was beyond the moon about the award, she just wasn't so thrilled about everything that came with it.

A waiter appeared, standing beside her and politely interrupted the conversation.

\- "Excuse me Dr Yang,"

He grabbed a glass from the tray he was skillfully holding and handed it to her.

-" This is from the gentleman over th..."

He tried to point the guy for her, but was unable to see him where he stood previously.

Surprised, Cristina has taken a hold of the glass and a old familiar scent reached her nostrils. That smell took her all the way back years ago, images invading her brain, memories, feelings... A shiver instantly ran throught her spine as she recollected her thoughts. A gentleman had ordered this for her. Who?

\- "What was his name?"  
\- "I don't know Dr. Yang, he didn't say."  
\- "This gentleman, what did he looked like?" she asked eagerly.  
\- "Uhhh, he was tall, short blond hair, blue eyes", the young man answered, trying to remember.  
\- "Where was he?!" she asked again, scanning the room.  
\- "He was standing over there, just by the double doors when he..."

Cristina sucked in a breath and without even excusing herself, she put the glass back on the tray almost run in the direction of the exit leaving puzzled men behind her.

She slammed the doors open and there he was, half the way through the long hallway that led outside the building. Her heart went up and down in her chest, something it never did again since she moved out of his life. He was walking, casually, his hands tucked in his pant's pockets, so 'Owen-ly', she thought. It was really him, Owen Hunt, someone she could never be mistaking for anyone else, even from behind, even thought seven years had passed since she last saw him. She could recognize him from every angle, at any time.

She stayed still even when the doors slammed shut behind her, looking at him walking away, considering wether or not she should call out for him. He was so close. So close. She felt a tickling sensation on her fingers as they remembered closing around his, tracing his shoulders, holding his neck, following the lenght of his back... His back that was getting further and further away right now. Panick rose from everywhere in her system. A few more seconds, a few more of his long steps and he will be gone... Shoud she...But... and... Only two more steps... One...

\- "Owen?!" she called.

 **So? ;)**


	2. The knight saving the God

**Author's note: Hi everyone, here is chapter 2, I hope you'll like it. I still need to found a way to get my beta... still don't know how to reach her without exposing e-mails anywhere. I'll find a way, 'cause I really do need one.**

 **About this chapter, I wasn't sure how to handle this. I wanted some real awkwardness but... I don't know, it didn't really come as I wrote. I hope it won't bother you, I figured they're soulmates you know, so maybe, just maybe, awkwardness wasn't that necessary.**

 **Please tell me what you think :)**

\- "Owen!?"

Her own voice felt strange to Cristina's ear when she half spoke half yelled his name. She clearly identified the surprise in it, the question even if she was sure, mixed with shock, wonder and... something else. Hope maybe. She waited for him to turn around. She wanted to see his face right now. No. She needed to see his face. Need. Yes, that was more like it. She had naver plan to see him again. 5000 miles away should have been enough, but he was here. Maybe 10 feet from her and she could only see his back, or his profile at this moment, and that just wasn't enough...

And then... then, her eyes met his. Abyss versus surface, moon versus sun, night versus day, dark versus light, brown versus blue. The world stopped for a moment as they looked at each other, both now completly unaware of the party going on behind the doors, party which was missing its queen. She studied every bit of him like she would have with a damaged heart, noticing every new wrinkle and every change in his features. He looked thiner from what she remembered, the so light stubble on his jaw increasing the loss of fat in his cheeks. Somehow, the scar she had traced so many times was deeper but when she followed it only with her eyes this time, it sent a warm feeling through her guts. Finally, she looked back into his eyes, that remained exactly the same, for her own pleasure.

He smiled at her and she smiled back, his hands still deep in his pockets and they both closed the distance between them meeting each other in the middle of the hallway, leaving only a few inches separating them.

\- "What are you doing here?" She asked softly.  
\- "Well, you know, it's a big day for you, I didn't want to miss it" He answered honnestly "And, congratulations by the way, you deserve it."  
\- "Thank you..." was all Cristina was able to say before her voice betrayed her.  
\- "It's... hum... you look... amazing" Owen continued gesturing up and down in her direction, a smile lifting his lips upward.

She felt the tears gather between her eyelids, threatening to fall any second now. Was it him, or her, or them together, she didn't know, but within a blink of an eye, something collided against her and she was in his arms, her face pressed against his neck, breathing in the smell that was uniquely his, both bodies remembering exactly how to fit perfectly against each other, like two pieces of a puzzle. They made it just a little tighter and last just a little longer than it would have been ' _appropriate_ '.

\- "Owen?" She whispered against his neck after what seemed like hours.  
\- "Hmm?" Came his muffled answer.  
\- "Is there still an once of that famous savior complex inside of you?

Leaning back from their embrace but keeping his hands on her arms, he chuckled soflty.

\- "Why?"  
\- "Seriously? I could really use a knight-in-shinning-whatever who would rescue me from this crap in there" she explained whipping the tears from her cheeks.

He let out another chuckle, took a step back, letting go of her and shook his head slightly.

\- "Cristina, you can't just elope from your own celebration..."

After a loaded silence, she answered:

\- "So?" The single word, said almost hesitantly, stung his heart.

And without any more second thought, he extended his arm towards her and she grabbed his hand, letting him drag her out.

-

Owen drove straight to his hotel, figuring her appartment would be the first place people will check if they noticed she was gone. As soon as they entered his room, he removed his jacket and placed it on the bed then he loosened his tie and opened the first buttons of his shirt. She took off her shoes, that have been killing her feet and left them at a random place. Absolutly at ease with each other's presence, they both sat on the small couch leaving a reasonable space between them.

\- "Did you have a chance to get something to eat or do you want me to order something?" He broke the silence.

It was her turn to chuckle, shaking her head.

\- "What?" he said raising an eyebrow.  
\- "You haven't changed, always trying to take care of others"  
\- "You're not even close... I'm merely being a gentleman here, after all you're officially a God now."  
\- "Okay... And I'm good, I ate before"  
\- "Good. How about something to drink?"  
\- "Ah! Now we're talking! Besides, I didn't have a chance to get that Tequila you ordered for me"  
\- "It's a shame... Oh wait, there's a minibar, maybe..." He rose and search through the cabinet. "Yep!" he said proudly, coming back to the couch with two bottles and glasses.

He gave her a glass of Tequila and pourred himself some Scotch in another one. He turned towards her and raised his glass between them.

\- "To you." he toasted.

She clinked her glass with his and they both took a sip. She remembered the last time they toasted, in the vent, right before she was supposed to receive the Harper Avery she never got, well, not until years later anyway. This specific memory could have been painful but what she really focused on was how sure he was, how much faith he had. Faith in her. ' _I think you're going to win, I really do_ ' he had say and somehow, at that precise moment, she had felt like she already did. She smiled unconsciously.

\- "What?" She heard him asked.  
\- "Nothing. Hey, you tavelled 5000 miles, why didn't you come and see me back there?" she asked curious.  
\- "I... I wasn't sure you wanted to see me. I mean, Meredith told me that you asked her not to tell me anything about you and not to tell you anything about me so... But I still wanted to be there for this. So I figured this way would work for both of us. I should have walked faster on my way out though..."  
\- "I"m glad you didn't", she stated honestly as a light shade of pink colored her cheeks.  
\- "Yeah, well... Seems like I still never stick to the plans I make." He laughed softly.  
\- "Don't say that!" She poked him playfully in the shoulder with her finger, "Remember when McDreamy wanted to bring all of us camping? Your plan worked pretty good!" She reminded him raising her eyebrows as he laughed more heartily this time.

For two hours, they exchanged stories and unloaded memories, carefully avoiding talking about their current lives, neither of them wanting to break the easy and nice atmosphere right now. And... ' _what you don't know, doesn't hurt you_ ', they say. They smiled and laughed at times, simply enjoying each other's compagny for the very first time in seven years.

But time had its own agenda. It always does. Cristina remembered that when her eyes fell on his watch.

\- "Damn! So late already? I really have to go home, I need to check on my patients tomorrow morning..." As she spoke, she couldn't hide the dispointment in her voice and Owen didn't miss it. He wasn't used to a not-so-excited-about-work Cristina.

\- "Hey!" she continued. Ah ah! Here it was, excited Cristina he thought. "When did you planned to leave?"  
\- "Huh, tomorrow night." He answered, surprised.  
\- "Do you want me to give you the tour? Of my hospital?"  
\- "Hmm, yeah, that... would be great." He answered smiling.  
\- "Great! Meet me at 10 tomorrow morning, in the lobby and... have me paged if I'm...late."  
\- "Ok... huh, do you want me to drive you home? Because I'll be happy to." He said rising from the couch.  
\- "No, no, I'll catch a cab, don't worry." Cristina answered, rising too, and making her way to where her high heels lyed and grabbing her purse.  
\- "Ok..." He could only answer following her to the door she had already open.

She turned abruptly to face him, but she found him close. Way too close. Her heart rate quickened and long forgotten flutters invaded her stomach, just like it did the day they met, just before he pulled that icycle out of her chest. The words she had plan to say were swallowed and she licked her lips unconciously.

She waited... For him, for it, for something. Anything. But nothing came. Owen took a step back and smiled.

\- "See you tomorrow then. Good night."

Only his voice, just a little deeper than it had been a moment before, betrayed he was just as troubled as her, but nothing else. And only after he closed the door behind her did he allowed the breath he was holding to go out of his lungs, closing his eyes to keep his feelings under control and slow his heartbeat.

He was NOT here for that. He didn't want that, didn't planned that. He was finally in a good place, a place where he wasn't hurting anymore. He was happy. And happiness had been hard enough to find. So was peace. He was even able to think about her without feeling that emptiness he used to.

He came for his ex co-worker, for the surgeon he once knew, for his friend if you will, because he was happy for her, but nothing else. Yeah.

Right.

 _Right_?

 **So ;)**


	3. The girl saving the knight's night

**Author's note: Hi guys! I wanted to thank you all for reading this story and reviewing (I'm actually enjoying writing it!) and Köszönöm szépen to you my hungarian reader ;). Letting me know what you think is crucial for me to know where I'm going and to improve.  
**

 **I'm adding this tiny, tiny, tiny chapter, because I'm mean sometimes lol and because it explains some things... or not... but it is important anyway and it deserved to not be flooded with other stuff. I probably should have put it at the end of last chapter, but I didn't have it right at the time. Sorry... I think.  
**

Owen sat on the unfamiliar bed in the middle of his hotel room. Cristina's perfume was still lingering in the air, teasing his brain more than his nostrils. For a few minutes he tried to erase the thoughts, erase the memories, erase the feelings... But it was an unwinable war and they kept rising just as unstoppable as a morning sun. Understanding he was about to loose the battle, he decided quickly to just force his brain to think about something or someone else. He grabbed his cell, checked the time back in Seattle and pressed a speed dial number, anxious.

\- "Hey you" the feminine voice at the other end answered almost on the first ring.  
\- "Hey" he answered, a smile slowly forming on his lips.  
\- "How did it go?" the woman asked right away.  
\- "It was ok... we spoke actually..."  
\- "You spoke to her? I thought..."  
\- "I know,"he interrupted her " I'll tell you all about it when I'll be back, I promise, but right now..." He paused and sighed as he let himself lay flat on his back above the covers of the bed, closing his eyes "...I wanna hear about my little Princesse."

He heard the woman giggle and a much, much younger voice yell behind her "I am NOT little!" And Owen smiled. A real smile. The kind of smile that reached his closed eyes and soften his face, making him look younger. He felt an heavy weight beeing lifted from his chest immediatly and knew the night he was facing wasn't going to be that hard after all.

And, he was right.

 **I'm so bad... right? :D**


	4. Every Knight has a challenger

**Author's note: Hi guys, I'm sorry it's been so long since the last update, I was unable to upload anything.**  
 **I want to thank everyone that still follows this story, for your reviews and for reading it.**  
 **I also want to anwer to one special review I had: Summers, first of all, thank you for reviewing. I understand you opinion, I would have appreciate advices instead of only plain critics, but that's okay. I can easily understand my writing isn't always smooth since my mother language is not english. I'm doing my best, I guess I can only improve, right? Concerning Owen's kid: I respect your opinion, I only regret that you commented on this before you waited to read why I do believe it's Important for Owen to have a kid in his life. I love Owen's character, that's why in my fanfics I will always (or most of the time) do my best for him to be happy, one way or another. I also like Cristina, but I think her character will never want a child, so I don't want to mess with that, otherwise it won't be Cristina anymore, and that's the reason I don't think I will ever write anything about Cristina becoming something close to a mother. I guess that explains the kid that isn't Cris's child.**

For the first time in her life, Cristina was right on time for something private despite the fact that she was at work. Right now, not even her last surgery lingered in her head. She had kept an eye on the clock since she arrived, early, wanting to make sure everything will be done before 9.50. And she succeeded. She closed her office's door behind her and headed toward the elevator down the hall, anxious to see Owen again.

She had had hard time to find sleep the night before, her skin remembering a little too well the way he used to touch her, hold her, love her. As she laid herself in bed silently she focused on the memories, holding them, almost hoping they would claim her like they used to do for months after she came to Zürick. But after a few minutes they instead eluded her, leaving her with ache only and tears she repressed because it was supposed to be a happy day, because she was a strong woman and because she was sure she already cried all the tears a human body could produce in a lifetime. She didn't acknowledge the few that escaped despite her best efforts, letting them run freely down her cheeks.

The trip in the elevator never felt slower and the light music playing in the small area never irritated her that much.

Yes, she was dying to see him.

She spotted him the second the doors opened, sitting in the middle of the lobby, his hand holding a cup of coffee to his lips.

As he failed to notice her right away, Cristina took a moment to just look at her ex husband. His hands first, then his shoulders, his neck and finally his face. And she felt like an alchoholic. When you are an alchoholic, you are somewhat addicted to alchohol, and if you want to get rid of it, you have to stop drinking obviously, but most of all, you can never have another drink for the rest of your life or you'll fell right back into it. Cristina has stopped seeing Owen, she almost forgot everything about him, she tried to anyway. But here he was, a few meters away and her body craved for him. Her mind had forgot but not her body or her heart.

Owen swallowed a sip of coffee and he winced.

\- "Did you buy this from the coffee cart outside?" he heard a familiar voice ask.

\- "That obvious?" he chukled getting up from his sitting position.  
\- "I made that same mistake on my first day, I never forgot." she smiled. "I'll provide you with a good one when we'll reach 3rd floor." she continued.  
\- "That'd be great." He answered heading to the nearest bin and discarding his cup of dark liquid someone dared to call 'coffee'.  
\- "So, this way."

As they walked side by side in the hospital, Owen realised he has been right. Never in his wildest dreams could he have provided her with that much equipment and that big of a budget, no matter how hard he would have tried. She was and have been realising her dreams, her goals, pretty much everything she lived for. She explained to him what she was doing, what she was hoping and what she was studying and it was wonderful. Really.

A while later she honored her promise, offering him a decent cup of coffee which smelled delicious. He didn't have time to taste it before she started to drag him down a corridor. After a few steps she stopped and turned toward him, a smile on her lips.

\- "And this..." she said opening a door "... is my office."

Cristina didn't stop looking at him, she wanted to see him surprised, she wanted to show him how well she was doing. Not that she wanted to brag or anything, she wanted him to be proud of her. And she wasn't disappointed. She saw the surprise in his eyes.

Her office was huge, with big windows letting a great amount of light and sun to come in and bathe the room. Her wooden desk looked (and was) very expensive and his own desk of chief of surgery at Seattle seemed to be a toy compare to this one. A leather couch where at least four people could easily sit, was lying on the opposite wall from her desk. She liked her office. Maybe not as much as an OR, but she liked it. It was like a home to her.

But Owen could barely see anything in it. He stood there, not moving, his eyes locked on one point of the room. Cristina started to worried, she had been expecting surprise, sure, maybe even shock, but she also has been expecting him to recover and say something. When his lips started to move, she felt relieve.

\- "Hi"

'Hi'? nope, that wasn't what she was expecting. She turned around hastily only to understand. Her office, well it didn't looked like her office. It looked like a florist. Dozens of flowers and plants had been displayed in there, covering all her furnitures and, in the middle of the room, a man stood, surprised too to see her with some compagny. The two men stared at each other when suddently one of them realised who the other was.

\- "Dr Hunt?"

If the size of Cristina's office didn't shocked Owen, or the man in it, or the flowers, hearing his name from this man did. He had not seen that man ever before and had no idea who he could be.

\- "Huh... yeah"

The man took a few step and extended his hand toward Owen, a huge smile on his face.

\- "It's such a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

Uncomfortable, Owen shook the hand offered to him. He was about to ask for the man's name at least, when Cristina spoke.

\- "What are you doing here and what's with all that?" she gestured around the room.

The tall man in front of her smiled again and in a second she was engulfed in his arms.

\- "I'm so proud of you, I wanted to celebrate!" she heard him say in her neck as she closed her own arms around him too.

Owen watched the man as he held Cristina in his arms. He could only see the man's face, half of it anyway, the other half hidden by Cristina's hair, his black skin a huge contrast to Owen's. He saw the genuine affection between the two people. And then, he remembered. Then, he knew who the man was.

Indeed, he never met him, but he had heard about him, long ago.

A wave of nausea crashed on him, flipping his stomach upside down. That was the man she endangered her carreer for, the man that left her at the altar, the man who offered her this very job on the other side of the world. That was the man who teared her away from him. Well, maybe this late statement wasn't the entire truth, but Owen felt this way at this very moment. And that was the thing he's been afraid of. Terrified even. That she could go back to... him. Anyone, he would have been okay with anyone, but not HIM.

He needed to get out, like right now otherwise he would just throw up right there and then. He cleared his throat, swalling the gastric acid collecting at the back of his throat, hoping to catch the attention of Cristina.

\- "I... huh.. I'm gonna go now... Thank you for the tour." he said, rather quickly, only wanting to be gone ASAP.

\- "I didn't want to interrupt anything..." The man answered, finally releasing Cristina.  
\- "Oh you didn't" Owen replied "I have a plane to catch and I need to buy some souvenirs before I leave... you know... for the kids."

Cristina was about to stop Owen from leaving so soon when she heard the last part of his sentence. But then, no word escaped her lips, no rational thoughts formed in her brains. She stayed there baffled, unable to move, speak or think. "For the kids" was all she could hear, even when Owen continued with something like "It was nice seeing you again" and " was good meeting you, sir". She barely saw the two men shaking hands but she didn't catch the look Owen gave her, or his half smile. She heard, however, very clearly, the door closing behind him, resonnating through her like a final point to a short paragraph. A paragraph of life, love and memories.

Owen didn't even taste the coffee he was still holding. He threw it in the first bin he found and headed to the exit, his pace quick. He was angry. Angry at Cristina for falling back into this guy's arms. Angry at Meredith for not telling him. Angry at the man for having carefully hid his agenda behind an incredible job offer. But mostly, he was angry with himself. He didn't want to be jealous, he didn't want to be hurt, he didn't want to be sad. But he was. He definatly was.

He bought presents, three for the kids and one for the woman of his life, made his way back to his hotel, packed his stuff and went to the airport. He needed to just go back home, fall back in his daily routine and forget about this. All of this.

His phone rang just as he was about to check in.

"Hey." he answered the call.  
"Oh, hey you" he continued with a softer voice. "I thought it was your mum."

The voice on the other side of the line started to talk, obviously worried.

"Hey, hey..." he interrupted after a while "Didn't I promise you I'll be there?"  
\- "Yes" a young boy voice answered.  
\- "And did I ever lied to you? or failed to honor a promise?"  
\- "No..."  
\- "So... I'll be there. I'm actually at the airport right now, I'll be back before you know it. And I'll be there for your match. I wouln't miss it, you know that."  
\- "Okay. Do you want to talk to mum?"  
\- "Yes Champ, please."

Owen smiled as he waited. He could always count on the kids to remind him what was important in life. A baseball match between other things. A baseball match, and a smile on a kid's face. He was lucky enough to have this in his life.

\- Later -

When Cristina finally got home, late as usual, she grabbed a slice of leftover pizza that was waiting for her. Her mind has been messed up since Owen left. She tried to hide it the all day, but her friends and co-workers noticed it. They didn't ask anything though, aware they would have upset her even more by asking. And they wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of Cristina Yang. No way. They wanted to stay alive and to have a chance to be operating with her one day.

She ate alone, in silence. She then took a shower and headed to her bedroom. As she laid herself in bed, she looked at the sleeping form on the other side of the bed. When it didn't move, gently snoring away, she turned away on her side.

He had kids. Owen Hunt became someone's father. He became a father to more than one someone even. She hated herself for being so hurt about it. It was one of the very reasons she left Seattle, because she knew he would never be able to move on if she stayed and she could not either. But as much as she loved him, like really really loved him, she will never be able to give him what he desired with all his soul: having kids. She knew that if there was one thing, ONE thing, that she wouldn't do for anyone, that was it. Having kids. Not even one. Not even for the man who healed her, the man who made her feel jalousy and need and happyness. Not even for the man she loved with all her heart.

Cristina thought she knew pain and what feeling hurt was. She witness her father's death, her boyfriend was shot in his shoulder, her fallopian tube burst, she was left at the altar, she's been empaled by an icycle, evicted from solo surgery and denied from operating. Yes, Cristina knew pain and hurt. But Owen... Owen showed her was hurt and pain was. Dead people, broken people, bombs, loosing everyone around you, EVERYONE. Waking up in the middle of the night at the sound of shooting guns, being blown, hurting people you love and living with all of that every single second of every single day. THAT was pain and hurt. She saw it in his eyes. She helped him through it. She stayed with him, held his hand and heart, waited with him, waited FOR him... Only the pain of her father's death seemed to be close of what he felt, but not even that could mesure up with what he went trough. And he healed, at some point, he healed, not even because of her but FOR her. He went to a shrink for her. Twice. He wanted to spend forty years with her. He ate cereals for diner for her. He took a bullet for her. He married her. He imagined a futur so full of greatness and happiness with her. Well, he loved her, at the time. He changed her. She didn't know how or when, but it happened. She changed. She was jealous, she said she loved him aloud, she bought a house for them to live in, she wanted to marry him, she even put his ring on her finger (even if not for long), she went to therapy, she begged him to stay when he planned to move out. Begged. Cristina never begged to a man before. NEVER. But she did begged him. Shamelessly.

But Owen had kids now. He probably promised her own 34 remaining years to his kids 'mother. That woman, probably tall and blond, makes him real meals and not cereals. They probably have a house with no fire pole in it and a dog. she had let him stroke her belly and talk to his unborn child each time she was pregnant. If she comes home late and comes to bed next to him, he reaches for her even in his sleep. He holds her when she's upset. He makes love to her and he makes her feel like she's the most beautiful and special woman on the face of the earth. He tells her that he loves her, that he is in love with her, that he never loved another woman the way he loves her... And she believes him. Cristina knows it because that's the way he made her feel each time he laid he eyes on her.

Cristina refrained a sob, swallowing it not to disturb the heavy silence in the bedroom. Tears quickly soaked her pillow as her heart broke quietly a little more. Guess, a human body can produce way more tears than she first thought...

When she finally closed her eyes, she almost felt Owen's arm sneacking around her waist and his chest against her back. She imagined the light kiss he would have give her right under her ear, had they share this bed. But that was not Owen. It will never be Owen again. Because Owen had kids, with some blond woman, on the other side of the world.

\- Later -

\- "Sir, would you like something to drink?"

The voice of a woman woke his up from his revery.

\- "No, thanks" he answered.

As she was just about to ask to the guy on the next row, he changed his mind.

\- "Wait, all things considered... I need a scotch. No ice please."

The moman smiled at him, a big smile he didn't even saw. He took the glass from her hand, thanking her before turning back toward the window of the plane again.

Why the hell did he had to go over there? Why the hell did he had to accept her "tour"? Sure, he wanted to be there. To see her reach one of her goals. And maybe... maybe he was dying to see her again. Just to see her. Maybe he needed to re-imprint his brain with her voice and her eyes, and her hair... Probably. Still... he should have known better. Of course he could tell anyone he was totally over Cristina Yang, that she was just a nice part of his past, but was it true? Was it really true? Yes, he tried to convince himself. That was the truth. Well... Mostly.

If only he said no to the tour. It would have been easy: "That sounds good, but I have a few things to do before I leave, so I won't have time. Maybe another time?". They would have both known that there would have never been another time but he would have stayed in the good place he was before. A place where there were both happy and where Preston Burke did not exists in neither of their lives.

But he did come, and he did say yes. Damn it.

Thankfully, in a few more hours, he will be home again. Tomorrow he will go to a baseball match and he will cheer like crazy and take videos. He won't think about Cristina or her small hands on Burke. He won't think about them going at it or her whispering soft words in this man's hear.

He felt sick as the thoughs ran into his brain. He closed his eyes before a tear could made its way down his cheek. He will not cry over her again. No way. Not this time. He was a grown man and he was way over her. Yes.

Hours later, after the plane had finally landed, the steward cleaned the seats and she found the glass of scoth a hot blond and blue eyed man had ordered during the flight. It had not be touch.

Meanwhile, in the middle of the airport, Owen let his bag fall at his feet as he kneeled, opening his arms wide the second he saw a little girl run straight to him. She threw herself at him and he held her, getting up and spinning her around. Her mother smiled at the pair from the distance but when Owen eyes met hers, he heard her say: "Welcome home". Oh yeah, he thought to himself, home. Home!


End file.
